


Aren't You Tired of Being Nice?

by going_going_gone



Series: Bringer of Death [1]
Category: Lore Olympus (Webcomic)
Genre: AU, Ares is a dick?, Dark, Episode 86 Au, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Nothing explicit, Self-Harm, or maybe he's just trying to help, this is a reference to the ape shit meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:48:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21601735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/going_going_gone/pseuds/going_going_gone
Summary: Persephone, reeling from what's happened to her and tired of being told what to do, meets Ares at the grocery store.
Series: Bringer of Death [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1556875
Comments: 9
Kudos: 68





	Aren't You Tired of Being Nice?

**Author's Note:**

> Just a minor AU. This sets up the next piece in this series.  
> Consider buying be a coffee!  
> https://ko-fi.com/going_going_gone

Kore.

Maiden.

What did that name mean anymore?

She’d been called that before, before she’d come to Olympus, before she’d been stupid enough to struggle from under her mother’s solid hand on her shoulder, reminding her that she was her little girl, that she was her pride and joy, that she had to be _good enough_.

Who was she fooling? Who did she think she was? She wasn’t anything more than a half-rate, minor Goddess.

How could she outshine the sun?

___

It had been bad the first time. It had taken Eros explaining it to her for her to understand the gravity of what he’d done to her, but this was on a whole other level.

Artemis had been out—she was out a lot these days—and she’d been making something for lunch. It was her day off, and the whole of the evening was spread out in front of her, a glorious few hours when she had nothing to worry about. Maybe she’d get some reading done, or go on a nice walk. That’s when he’d appeared.

He’d probably walked through the door, but her thoughts were on leisure, and it seemed more like he’d simply materialized behind her. His hands had snaked around her waist, sliding over her hips like he owned them. And then…

She had bruises this time. There hadn’t been bruises before, and there was a sinking feeling in her gut intertwined with a passing relief because this time was more familiar. This was what she pictured when she thought of the word Eros had said.

Rape.

This fit the horror stories much more closely.

Living in the mortal realm, surrounded by forest and flower nymphs, Persephone had heard those stories, in passing, before her mother could draw her away and make her forget, stories about poor mortal girls being attacked. And in Olympus, she’d heard the jokes from the minor gods, jokes about nymph girls who couldn’t run away fast enough. It had made her skin crawl, but she was so damn sheltered.

This was a new age. They were more evolved now. Gods didn’t go around ravishing nymphs anymore. Right?

Right…

He’d left again. She didn’t know whether to be glad. Part of her just wanted him to look at her, to see her tears and realize what he’d done. She wanted him to say he was sorry; to promise he’d never do something like this again. She wanted him to fall to his knees and beg her forgiveness. But another, larger, part of her was just glad he didn’t stick around. She didn’t want him to keep touching her.

When she could finally get out of the bed, when she was sure he was gone, she pulled the small shoebox out from underneath her bed. The gold of his lyre stung her eyes, but she blinked past the pain and took it out. With a smile as fragile as glass she gripped one of the strings. It bit into her skin as she pulled it, trying to tear it out. She hissed as golden ichor began seeping out, but she ignored it. She tugged and tugged, smile growing less and less stable. Her hands were slippery with ichor as it finally snapped.

The end of the string lashed out and stung her cheek, and she grinned.

She wondered if she’d pluck out each string before he realized it was missing.

___

Touch was a fact of life.

In the mortal realm, Persephone had spent her days with her mother’s flower and forest nymphs when she wasn’t studying, and affectionate touch had been easier and more frequent than breathing. It had been hard, adjusting to the cold reality of sleeping alone in Olympus, but she was grateful now for that.

No one touched her here.

When she got onto the subterranean rail to get to her internship every morning the shades and nymphs and minor deities gave her a thankfully wide berth, in class the student all kept a respectful distance from one another. Even Artemis seemed averse to physical touch. She couldn’t bear the thought of being touched anyway.

When one of her classmates had accidentally brushed his finger along hers while handing back a packet she’d had to leave the room before the panic attack started, and she couldn’t imagine what her reaction would be to anything more severe than that.

Until Ares, of course.

She didn’t even know why she was in this stupid line. She didn’t know why she was buying vegetables for dinner tonight, other than because she felt so sick of herself and her weakness that the idea of using her powers made her nervous. What if they were gone?

And then a purple-skinned nymph had rudely barged past her to grab a fizzy nectar from the soda cooler and she’d almost jumped out of her skin.

And then Ares.

It hadn’t been obvious to start. It made sense, the rising tide of rage that swept through the checkout line. The cashier was _maybe_ the slowest person she’d ever seen, and she was the only register open, and Persephone couldn’t see another employee at all. Everyone was naturally incensed. And then she’d felt a pair of strong thick arms circle her waist.

She let out a small noise, a mixture of fear and anger, swinging around to stare up into a pair of furious looking red eyes.

On anyone else, the snarl of anger would have been something of note, but if she knew Ares, he really only had two facial expressions; smug smile or mask of absolute rage.

“Missed me, tulip?”

“What are you doing here?” she snapped. Ares snaked an arm out to pick up one of the onions in her cart and inspect it as if he’d never seen one before. She snatched it away, holding it protectively to her chest.

Ah, there was the smug smile.

“Your mother isn’t around, is she? Doubt she’d be happy to see her little gardener buying retail produce.”

“No, of course not,” she scoffed. She certainly wouldn’t be alone in public if her mother was on Olympus.

“Little Kore, out and about without her mother? Did my father get struck by lightning? Does she knows your traipsing about all alone in the big city?”

“No! And she’s not going to find out, either,” Persephone growled meaningfully.

He laughed a big belly laugh. The purple nymph sent them both an annoyed glance. As a pair, they both turned on him.

“Do you need something?” Ares barked.

“Want to keep it to yourselves?” the nymph retorted.

The blow came out of nowhere, Persephone stepping back in alarm as Ares slapped the fizzy drink out of the man’s hand. It slapped against the tile with a hollow metallic ring and the golden liquid spread out around their feet.

The nymph, recognizing the danger of his situation, beat feet out of the store without a second glance.

No employees appeared to clean up the mess. The cashier didn’t even look their way.

Persephone gripped the lapels of Ares’s stupid uniform and dragged him away from the line, her basket forgotten as she dragged him down the cereal aisle.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Is that a joke?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” she asked. She felt her hair beginning to flow down her back as little red vines began twirling their way through the magenta tresses.

“No. You look positively wrathful. In fact, you just might be the angriest little goddess in this whole Pantheon.”

When Persephone sent him a doubtful look, he amended his statement.

“Besides my mother, that is, she’s a close second. Mother is always angry, though. That’s not interesting.”

Persephone crossed her arms, glaring up at him. Regardless of how angry his mother war or was not, she felt a lot less wrathful and a lot more impotently frustrated.

“Last time I saw you, you were _plump_ with optimism. But now you’re so angry. You’re practically rotting from the inside!” He said it all with a shit-eating grin, and the words grated on her nerves.

Persephone hated the way his mouth caressed the word plump as it left his mouth, the way her stomach churned when he said she was rotting inside. The feeling of her fingers scraping at her thighs as she spent hours in the shower felt branded on the inside of her skull. The look of utter disdain that clinic worker had given her would haunt her for centuries.

“Fuck off!” she snapped.

“Don’t want to talk about it?” he asked, grin only widening.

“No.”

“I could guess,” he suggested. “I’m really good at guessing.”

Persephone looked up at the eager smile he was giving her, and she only felt exhausted. “Please,” she begged, “If you bear me any goodwill at all, just drop it.”

“You’re the one who wants war,” he practically hummed. “I could sense that all the way from the mortal realm. “It’s basically why I’m back. I left a particularly juicy blood feud just for you.”

“Why?” she whimpered. “I can’t fathom how my feelings could drag you away from your slaughter.”

“I heard you. Like a sweet siren song. Kore, Kore, Kore.”

Each recitation of her name sounded like a prayer, as he inched closer and closer to her. The way he said that name only made her angrier. Kore. Maiden.

“Or should I say, _Persephone_. Bringer of Death.” He was nose to nose with her now, crouching slightly to amend the significant height difference. “What did you do? I tried to look into it. But there are no stories from the mortals, no documents, no gossip. Your records are squeaky clean.”

Persephone felt her heart stutter, felt the aisle closing in on her. She grabbed at him again, dragging him out of the grocery store with a strength she didn’t know she had. Once they were out in the parking lot, she let him go, almost shoving him away from her.

“Ares, don’t,” she hissed. “I swear— I’ll…”

“What? What are you gonna do?” he asked, clapping his hands excitedly.

“Shut up! Just shut up and leave me alone!” she shouted.

“Who are you angry at, oh Bringer of Death?” he sang.

Persephone’s hair was spread out around her, whipping like a living thing, and the red vines had trailed down her arms. She didn’t feel the thorns against her skin, but she knew somehow that they were wickedly sharp. She wanted to hurt him, wanted to cover him in the poisonous little thorns and see how far it could go. She wanted to test out his immortality.

“What’s got you so worked up?” he whispered.

“Everything!” she shrieked. “Everyone!”

“Tell me more!”

“You, and Hades, and…and my mom. Hera, Hestia, Artemis, _Apollo_. Everyone!”

His smile faded. “Why?”

“You all make me feel like a stupid little village girl and a stupid little fool who can’t take care of herself. Kore, do this, Kore do that. Kore, be this, Kore, be that. Kore, join TGOEM, apply yourself to your studies, apply for this internship, smile, keep still, don’t—don’t move, don’t fight back…”

Her words dissolved into body wracking sobs, her skin and her eyes glowing with a rage she hadn’t even been aware she was feeling, just beneath the surface, simmering like a boiling river. The red vines shriveled up around her, falling and curling up to die at her feet.

Ares wrapped a pair of strong arms around her shoulders, squishing her face into the bronze buttons of his uniform. Seconds ago she would have shoved him away viciously, but she needed the affection right now. She needed to hear his heartbeat in her ear. She needed to know there was another person here listening to her cry.

“Aren’t you tired of being nice?”


End file.
